I’m taking a break from this pen and folly, as my words of late have not been so jolly. The spring is here and the flora’s in bloom. Why should I wallow locked in this room? ~ I can’t spend my days writing alone, I can’t watch more news or play with my phone. My body needs movement and my brain needs repair. So I’m going outside to enjoy the fresh air. ~ But not to worry, I’ll be back soon, perhaps inspired by a beautiful moon. Enough is enough of the weeks’ melancholy. The weekend is here and I hope pen and folly.
When Steve was but a small boy the signs were becoming clear. Movement was not forthcoming from that precious little dear. He stayed there in his tiny crib until he grew too tall. He laid there day and night just staring at the wall. ~ His parents were much concerned as the young boy slowly grew. The only activity he seemed to like was when he had to chew. His cousins would come to visit and they all went out to play. But not little Stevie, in his bed he chose to stay. ~ Eventually the school days came and Steve was dragged to class. Fortunately his memory was good and easily he did pass. The next twelve years were much the same, for him fair’s good enough. His parents wished him college bound, but Steve didn’t like that sort of stuff. ~ A few more years Steve stayed at home, until he got kicked out. Poor Steve was confused and hurt his future so much in doubt. While shuffling slowly to his grandma’s house he saw a big lit-up sign. Steve read it very carefully and then he felt just fine. ~ Waiters wanted is what it said so Steve sauntered in to see what’s what. It wasn’t what he was thinking though and got kicked out on his butt. Steve was deflated as he felt his world come crashing down. Sitting alone on a park bench he watched darkness fill his town. ~ The sun then newly risen, Steve slumbered peacefully. Until poked by a cop named Phil, who wouldn’t let Steve be. Steve then told Phil of his plight and how his life’s a mess. Phil flung Steve in the backseat as he could care no less. ~ A furious Phil then told Steve he was just a lazy man. And that he wouldn’t do anything if someone else can. Arriving at the station Steve was ordered to quietly sit. Phil came back the next day and said “I found a place you’ll fit. ~ Steve was brought to a room where screens filled every wall. Phil told Steve what to look for and when to make the call. Steve loved his new position, his super power he had found. Soon a suspect spotted and promptly tackled to the ground. ~ If you’re looking for a moral, a lazy story you shouldn’t seek. Perhaps the lesson’s there so I’m glad you took a peek. Though the story may be fiction the condition does often show. And when a cure for lazy is found I’ll be sure to let you know.
I woke today without a thought. I tried to write as I ought. The hours past, the writing naught, perhaps a blockage I have caught. ~ But tomorrow is another day. Will I write, I cannot say. Will the blockage have its way? Or will the rhymes come out to play. ~ Questions asked but answer’s few. If not to write what will I do? Will I feel sad and blue? Or will tomorrow shed a clue? ~ I’ll let you know, wait right here. I’ll try my hardest, this I swear. Long or short, I don’t care. Because it’s always best to share.
My story began on the fifth of May. The day was chilly with a sky of gray. In my tent, cozy, I woke to a scream. Was it a person or was it a dream? ~ Morning dew thick, I stood there alone. The sun newly risen, I reached for my phone. No urgent messages or a soul in sight. No reason at all to cause such a fright. ~ The bikes were still leaning on a nearby tree. They’re the only way home for my pal and me. I then ran to the tent of my snoring friend, who’s along for the ride this spring weekend. ~ But the roar from within made it quite clear, my old friend’s just fine, no need to fear. I then glanced down the path to a campsite nearby. Something felt wrong but I didn’t know why. ~ I tiptoed closer when another scream was heard. It was the voice of a child, but that seemed absurd. I then ran to the shrieking and what did I find? Kids with a snake and they weren’t being kind. ~ I said hey kids “what’s with the noise? And why do you think that snakes are toys?” One little girl about seven or eight, said she wanted a pet and snakes are great. ~ Her brother the screamer cried at the thought. He’s afraid of snakes or anything caught. The other two children stood quiet and surprised, their naughty ways they now realized. ~ I said all life should be treated as if it’s your own. A lesson you should have already known. Soon the kid’s parents arrived on the scene. Their mother was angry, their father, big and mean. ~ He yelled loudly at his children and then at me. Saying stay away from my kids or trouble you’ll see. I knew not to argue or make a big fuss. But there was something I hoped to discuss. ~ I said “no problem, it’s not what it seems.” I then told them my story of snakes and screams. Their mom, disgusted, took the kids back to camp. The dad growled asking “do you think I’m damp?” ~ Puzzled, I asked “what do you mean, I’ve only told you what I’ve seen.” “I saw no snake, just my kids and you.” The dad replied, “What would you do?” ~ I know what I thought, but I couldn’t say. I felt it best to live through the day. I could’ve run, but to where? I could’ve fought him, but I didn’t dare. ~ He then picked up a very big stick. Then he charged at me like a lunatic. I stood frozen awaiting my demise, when the little snake caught the big man’s eyes. ~ He stopped on a dime and screamed in fear. His reptilian angst now was clear. So I slowly bent over and picked up the snake. The big man then started to tremble and shake. ~ “This is the culprit,” I loudly said. As I waved it gently near his clammy head. Sobbing, he begged, “Please take it away. I now believe everything you say.” ~ I took a step back, surprised and relieved. The turn of events was hardly believed. I thanked that snake and said goodbye to the dad. He just waved, whimpering and sad. ~ I then put the snake down and walked quietly away. I was relieved we survived this fine spring day. I went back to my tent then fell back to sleep, never to tell who a snake made weep.
Hello world, how do you do? I’ve got a little something to share with you. The sun has risen and the day is new. But what comes next I’ve not a clue. ~ I’m sure you’re feeling much the same, though to be confused there is no shame. Mistakes get made, we share the blame. Wouldn’t it be nice if life were tame? ~ Imagine the place this world could be, if all could live both safe and free. Think of the wonders we’d all see. See you tomorrow, that’s it for me.
Acme is the place we all want to be. It’s the pinnacle and the entire world’s to see. It’s where our flights of fancy are flying free, anvils no problem with the power of we. ~ A peek at our peak we imagine and seek. Up and down in waves we speak. Whether yacht or dingy, they all will leak. And my day’s high point is to kiss your cheek. ~ Now back to acme before I wander too far. It’s the place that sets the bar. Most won’t get there with just a car. But our match is won, no need to spar. ~ Optimally positioned to spend time with you, our love’s a summit seen by a few. And with you I’m at my apogee, that’s why you’re the acme for me.
My machine is broken on this cold winter’s day. I woke up early but I’ve nothing to say. My pad looks lonely with no words on it yet. So I looked out the window for inspiration to get. ~ But the sky is gray and the snow is brown. And the hour’s too early for any action in town. The birds are still nested and the squirrels asleep. The cats are about but not making a peep. ~ My world is quiet, silence is heard. My vision is clear but my thoughts are blurred. So I look at the news, but nothing’s good there. So alone I sit on my old kitchen chair. ~ Something will come, it usually does, I don’t know the reason so I say it’s because. Because, because is the answer we give when we’ve none, so that’s all for now because I’m done.
I started the day in the usual way. But life was soon to change. The sun rose as everyone knows. Then set to a feeling that’s strange. ~ Blind to the notion of this surge of emotion, quickly I rushed to my pad. My scribbles were new and for now but few. And soon they’ll be signed as Granddad.
You can make a pile, I’ll make a stack. You can smile at me and I’ll smile back. I’ll boil the water, you make the tea. I’ll blow you a kiss and you blow one to me. ~ You can pop the popcorn, I’ll melt the butter. You can hold my hand and make my heartbeats flutter, I’ll choose the movie, you pick the day. The next time we’ll switch and both have our way. ~ I’ll clear the table, you clear the waste. We can share dessert, I’ll have a taste. You can say “I love you” and I’ll say it too. Then we’ll share our futures, both, me and you.
Another year’s gone by too fast. But the birthday stress now has past. I had too much cake and coffee too, had a party and stepped in poo. ~ Perhaps an omen or maybe not, or a reminder of things forgot. Crappy stuff happens every day. And we often slip along the way. ~ Yesterday being our only prep, surprises await with every step. Life can stink as we all know, but sometime wrapped with a bow. ~ My shoes now scraped, no damage done. My time ahead I’ll wish for fun. I won’t let aging make me sad, the alternative being really bad.
If you’re having manopause a guynecoligyst you must see. They’ll gently cup your stuff and ask you how you pee. It should come as no surprise, it happens when we age. There’s little cause for worry and no need for any rage. ~ As we all grow older things will begin to move. Sometimes things won’t work even when we’re in the groove. The pain at times can rightly get us scared. But if the boys were gone you know you’d feel weird. ~ If you just felt a twinge your time is soon to come. But if you feel anything it’s better than being numb. I know I’m not a doctor, but I know one thing for sure. To keep the golden nuggets, wishing is not a cure.
The poet’s journal’s an open book, so come on in and take a look. There are all the emotions to be found, there’s also thoughts on sight, smell and sound. ~ Pages are filled with love and heartbreak, with lots more between for give and take. There’s sunsets galore and sunrises more, starlit nights and seasons for sure. ~ Sometimes funny, most times not, it might not be good but there’s a lot. Bring your glasses and forget the phone, with a poet to listen you’re never alone. ~ You might be a muse or giver of clues, I may write a poem about your new shoes. We’ll sip some coffee in the shade, the day will end but a friendship made. ~ Our time will be logged with notes on the side, with a flourish embellished or at least tried. But if you can’t make it that’s OK too, it’s all online to be shared with you.
Dutifully wound when I rise each and every day. Staring at my watch I see the time’s ticking away. The band now snugger as the weight begins to rise. Its numbers memorized unseen through aging eyes. ~ Wear’s now apparent, shimmer gone from its case. Distress now etched forever on a once smooth face. Hours once familiar now simply shades of grays. Precision now is lacking in this twilight phase. ~ With each wind a moment gone, a moment less to see, this time we spend on time are moments not to be. I know the day’s coming when the spring loses its twist. But til then, I’m sure, today lives upon my wrist.
I think I have an issue and it’s been a while. But I’ll be back soon to help you all smile. I need some time off but I’ll be taking notes. Maybe I’ll shoot some snaps or study ancient quotes. ~ I might write a tale of a dragon and a knight. But they’ll be best friends and never ever fight. Perhaps I’ll pen an essay of all the worlds’ ills. Better yet, pornography that might pay the bills. ~ The choices are seemingly endless but I can’t decide. I’ve dove into my brain cells searching far and wide. It’s a dark and squishy place where the palette dwells. It’s connected to the heart by strings, whistles and bells. ~ Delving ever deeper ideas come into view. Words drip from my head, on the page they’re spew. Their order or direction makes no sense to me. Then my eyes begin to close and the clarity I see. ~ The outside world’s distracting, as you are aware. If there is just one thing, that’s the one we share. I think I’m waking up now; it must be time to go. But when I write again I’ll probably let you know.
Spring is nearly over and summer’s almost here. The beach we’ll soon visit but don’t forget your gear. There’s sunscreen for your skin and a hat for your head. And don’t forget the mask to hide the look of dread. ~ You’ll need a little lunch and extra water too. Bring toys for the kids so they’ve something to do. Go home and disinfect all the things you’ve brought. Then long hot showers so no bugs are caught. ~ Relax a bit; go to bed and dream of doing more. But wait at least two weeks just to feel sure. The summer’s short and soon it will be done. Let’s hope by the fall we’ll have a bit more fun.
I haven’t written much of late, my brain has been askew. I search the news constantly seeking something new. The summer is upon us and the birds sing with glee. I’m not sure if they’re happy or just teasing you and me. ~ While we were trapped inside the wildlife had its way. But soon we’ll be back out and ruin their perfect day. The roads were nearly empty with few planes overhead. The plants bloomed on schedule and the animals all well fed. ~ Their air was a bit cleaner and the noise was nearly nil. And while they frolicked peacefully we tested our will. This poem is nearly over as I watch the cars pass by. I’m glad we’re almost normal now but for the animals I will cry.
I woke today and the world was new. What was normal is now askew. Trapped in the house for weeks on end, I’ve borrowed time but none to lend. ~ Rules have changed but habits not. A little space is now a lot. Smiles once shared now go missing. Waves are fine, but please, no kissing. ~ Looking out; cars drive by. Looking up; I see blue sky. Looking down; I see two feet. Looking in; I fear the street. ~ Tensions eased but not its force. I need escape but not remorse. Masks mask the pressure we face. Hopefully patience wins this race. ~ The time will come when now is past. That day’s coming, I hope I last. But to be sure I’ll just stay home. Perhaps tomorrow again I’ll roam.
Internet addiction comes in many forms. Some quite explicit but most fit the norms. My own peccadillo doesn’t seem so very bad. It often makes me happy and rarely makes me sad. ~ I fantasize of beauty, this I will admit. I love shape and form with a dash of wit. Though some look unnatural with parts all askew, their faces slapped together are seemingly taboo. ~ Pages scroll before my eyes as I stare in awe. Wasted time’s a problem but not against the law. Ads fill my mailbox, an embarrassment to see. Each has a pitch but nothing’s ever free. ~ Though I’ve spent no money or caught some disease, my constant oohs and aahs can cause some unease. I may have my issues but certainly I’m no louse. I’m just very anal looking for a house.
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